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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510461">With Sincere Greed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TextReciprocation/pseuds/TextReciprocation'>TextReciprocation</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5k words of found family trope followed by a bunch of smut don't @ me, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hair Braiding, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mutual Pining, akechi got adopted by the phantom thieves during high school and now they're all sad college kids, angst but like only because Akechi Goro is a dumbass, the gang's all here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:07:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TextReciprocation/pseuds/TextReciprocation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve always found braids to be quite beautiful,” Yusuke says from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. “The practice dates back thousands of years, you know. If you don’t mind, I’d love to sketch the two of you. The intimacy of carding your hands through another’s hair-“</p><p>“Dude, gross,” Ryuji groans, cheeks flushing. “I don’t wanna think about Akira getting <i>intimate</i>. Thanks, but no thanks.”</p><p>Goro’s mind turns unbidden to the thought of Akira running his hand through Goro’s hair — a soft, tender motion, filled with passion rather than platonic affection. <i>I wonder if he’s that kind of lover,</i> Goro thinks. <i>Maybe he is. Or maybe he’s the sort of lover who’d grab a fistful of my hair and-</i></p><p>“Calm down, Ryuji, nobody’s getting <i>intimate</i>,” Ann says, already pulling an elastic out of her hair. <i>Get it together,</i> he thinks.</p><p>(Or: Akira starts braiding the girls' hair, much to Goro's seething displeasure. Fortunately, Goro just needs to wait his turn.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>431</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>With Sincere Greed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I might therefore need to vow myself to you.<br/>I love you obsessively. I love you biologically.<br/>I love you with sincere greed.<br/>I am never doing this again.<br/>Again, again.</p><p>- Lauren Clark, <i>More Vows</i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sometimes, Goro wonders what his life would’ve been like if he hadn’t transferred to Shujin Academy under the circumstances he had — a loner, an outcast, rejected by his father and tossed into an uncaring society.</p><p>“Don’t forget, it’s supposed to be my turn next,” Ann mutters, “I haven’t gotten to play yet.” With her hair down, she looks a bit older, but she sounds as innocent (and as petulant) as ever.</p><p>“Patience, grasshopper,” Futaba says. She’s perched on the couch like a bird in her mismatched socks, tiny fingers clacking mercilessly all over her controller. “Kicking Ryuji’s ass is <em> very </em> important.”</p><p>Ryuji, to his credit, is trying very hard not to get his ass kicked — his body is tight from head to toe, eyes squinted in concentration, elbows digging into his knees to where Goro thinks he can almost hear the cartilage snapping. “How does she move so fast? This is nuts,” he whimpers.</p><p>“Why don’t you try getting good, <em> scrub lord</em>,” Futaba says, smirking like the devil behind glasses made for someone three times her size.</p><p><em> Quiet</em>, Goro thinks, rubbing his temples. A pile of papers languish in front of him, untouched — beside them, a stack of closed books meander their merry way towards entropy. His coffee went cold half an hour ago, the surface grimy with film. <em> If I hadn’t transferred to Shujin, my life would be quiet. </em></p><p>“Honey, I’m home,” Akira sing-songs, swinging around the banister with light feet and a graceful sway. He tosses a bag onto the table, grinning. “Wow, you guys are still at it?”</p><p>“Akira! You’re back,” Futaba says, perking up. “Did you get the goods?” Despite the enthusiasm in her voice, her owlish eyes remain glued to the screen.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am. A bounty awaits you.”</p><p>“Hell yeah, snacks.” She finally peels her eyes away from the screen. <em> Game Over, Oracle Wins </em> flashes repeatedly, taunting Ryuji’s scowling face.</p><p>“Man, I’m done with this,” he says, setting his controller back by the console. “You’re unbeatable. I give up.”</p><p>“Yay! My turn,” Ann cheers, running to snatch the controller. “Akira, did you remember to grab hair ties?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he says, scratching his head with a furrowed brow. “I wasn’t sure which ones you usually get, though. Hopefully, I got the right thing.”</p><p>Futaba plucks a little package of hair ties out of her pile of snacks — and then she plucks another, and another, and <em> another</em>. “Damn, it looks like you bought every hair tie in the store. Wait — oh my gosh, are these-”</p><p>“Ah, those are actually for you. Sorry, Ann.”</p><p>Goro glances up, locking stormy eyes with Makoto, who has also been trying (and failing) to study. Makoto huffs and shakes her head, the picture of mature consternation — but her lips betray her with a smile. Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, Futaba is brandishing a package of... Featherman scrunchies?</p><p>“Holy shit, they’re <em> so cute... </em>Hm. I don’t like ponytails, though.”</p><p>“You could always braid it,” Ann says. She grabs a package of red hair ties, placing her hair back in the usual twin tails.</p><p>“I never learned how to braid.” Futaba slips two of the four scrunchies around her wrists. “Well, I guess I could just wear them like this.”</p><p>“Oh, I could braid it for you,” Akira says, shrugging. Everyone turns to look at him.</p><p>“Since when do <em> you </em> know how to braid hair?” Ann asks, raising an eyebrow at him.</p><p>“I was friends with a lot of girls in middle school.” Akira looks a bit sheepish as he runs fingers through his own short locks.</p><p>“Do it,” Futaba says, shoving the scrunchies at his chest. “Impress me with your braiding prowess.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t call it <em> prowess</em>, but sure. I’ll do my best.”</p><p>Futaba settles into a chair and Akira settles in behind her, slipping two of the scrunchies onto his right wrist. Ann retrieves a hairbrush from her bag, which Akira accepts.</p><p>Akira fumbles around with the brush for a while, struggling to work through Futaba’s wild, knotted locks. When he begins braiding, it’s with shaky, unsure hands. <em> Well</em>, Goro thinks, <em> hopefully someone warns him not to quit his myriad part-time day jobs.</em></p><p>Something about the image, though — something about it sets Goro’s chest on fire. Akira’s tongue peeks out from in between his lips, brow furrowed in concentration. His fingers dance crookedly through their task, all at once graceful and graceless; they’re dexterous, but they aren’t used to this.</p><p>“I’m impressed, <em> Joker</em>,” Goro says, desperate to cut through the room’s silence. “You really are a jack of all trades, aren’t you?”</p><p>Akira shoots him a sidelong glance that says <em> you’re an asshole, </em>but he’s smiling, too. It’s the smile he reserves for Goro — a soft, sly smile, eyes peering out from underneath lowered lashes. </p><p>Goro turns back to his homework, begging his face not to turn scarlet.</p><p>A few long minutes of ‘studying’ pass. Mostly, ‘studying’ involves sneaking quick glances at Akira. It’s a common pastime of Goro’s. Akira has always been equal parts difficult to look at, and difficult to look away from — even when they’d both been at Shujin together, acne-riddled and round-faced.</p><p>He’s willing to admit that he’s… kind of in love with Akira. Of <em> course </em> he’s kind of in love with Akira. <em> Everyone’s kind of in love with Akira</em>, he thinks, bile rising in his throat. <em> Or at least they think they are. </em></p><p>Everyone <em> thinks </em> they know Akira Kurusu, and they aren’t wrong — they each know a version of him, one that is both genuine and disingenuous. Akira never lies, but he plays his cards close to the vest, and so many people don’t seem to notice that they’ve fallen in love with a mask.</p><p>Goro wants to take those cards, toss them to the ground, grab Akira by the lapels of one of his ridiculous jackets and—</p><p>He swallows his heart, stopping <em> that </em> train of thought before it can start.</p><p>“Well, I think that’s as good as it’s going to get,” Akira sighs, giving Futaba’s hair one last pat. Her hair sits in two loose pigtails — chunky and inelegant, but charming.</p><p>“Aw,” Ann coos, “that’s so cute! Akira, you did such a good job!”</p><p>“Fuck yeah, this is <em> adorable. </em>I could get away with infinite crime.”</p><p>“Futaba, you terrify me,” Ryuji says, shaking his head. Futaba chuckles. “Anyway, I gotta go. Yusuke needs help with his sculpture again.”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s getting late.” Makoto shuffles her papers back into a neat pile. “I’ll head out as well.”</p><p>“Aw, come on,” Futaba whines, “Akira just got back.”</p><p>“Don’t forget, tomorrow is movie night,” Ann says, putting away her hairbrush. “Makoto, do you want to walk with me to the station?”</p><p>“Well, I guess I’ll go back to my cave. Thanks for the braids, Akira!”</p><p>Everyone continues talking over each other as they stomp downstairs. Eventually, their loud voices fade away, leaving Goro and Akira alone in the quiet attic.</p><p>Goro’s heart leaps into his throat — it’s so rare for them to be alone, so precious.</p><p>“I’ll be out of your hair soon,” Goro says. “I just want to finish a few things. You don’t mind, do you?”</p><p>“Go for it.” Akira shuffles his bare feet over to the bed, falling back onto it with a grunt. He stretches his arms like a tired cat, shirt riding up to expose the strip of flesh below his navel — it’s soft, a bit paler than his arms, and there’s a smattering of hair trailing downward.</p><p>Goro swallows, turning back to his work.</p><p>“How are classes going?” Akira asks, setting his glasses on the windowsill, gazing over at Goro through sleepy, half-lidded eyes. He looks so content — like a cat discovering sunbeams for the first time. <em> Surely he wants me to leave, </em> Goro thinks, palms sweating. <em> But I want him to myself, if only for a moment. </em></p><p>“They’re going,” Goro chuckles through his dry mouth. “How are your classes going?”</p><p>“They’re going,” Akira sighs, tilting his head back into the sheets. “After midterms, we should go to Kichijoji. It’s been ages.” <em> Of course — we. </em></p><p>“I’m sure the others would love that,” Goro says, eyes focused in front of him, pen digging a trench through his otherwise neglected paper.</p><p>“Oh, I figured it’d just be us,” Akira laughs, waving a hand like it should’ve been obvious. Goro’s heart does a pathetic somersault through his abdomen.</p><p>“I suppose that makes sense,” Goro croons, voice sharpening against the wave of panic that swells in his chest. “I’m the only one who stands a chance against <em> you</em>, after all.”</p><p>“<em>Stands a chance </em> , he says. You’ve been kicking my ass at billiards wrong-handed for <em> years</em>, Akechi.”</p><p>“Well, perhaps you should — what is Futaba always saying...” Goro taps a delicate finger against his chin, feigning thought. “‘<em>Get good</em>?’”</p><p>Akira laughs a deep, genuine laugh, rolling around his bed with his arms wrapped around his torso like Goro’s just said the funniest joke in the world. “I hate you,” he says, smiling.</p><p>“Good. I hate you, too.”</p><p>“My deadly rival,” Akira jokes, clutching his hand to his heart. “Foes until the bitter end. You know... that’s actually kind of hot.”</p><p>Goro grabs a candy wrapper off of the table, balls it up, and throws it at Akira’s smug face. Akira laughs, and Goro chuckles along with him — but a hint of rage bubbles to the surface of his mind, petulant and sinister. <em> It’s not fair that he gets to joke about that, </em> it says. <em> Doesn’t he know? He must know, he </em> must<em>, we’re so </em> obvious<em>. Is he taunting us? </em></p><p>“Well, as much as I love plotting your demise, I’m afraid I need to get home,” Goro says, neatening his belongings and placing them back into his briefcase. “I have an early morning tomorrow.”</p><p>“Oh. Yeah, of course. You’ll be at movie night though, right?”</p><p>“Of course,” Goro says, placing a soft smile onto his face. His rage twists into something sadder — a complicated little emotion, unnameable and vast. It makes him so desperate to get closer to Akira that he can’t help but run away. “I’ll see you then, Kurusu.”</p><p>“Bye, Akechi.”</p><hr/><p>In hindsight, he should’ve known that Futaba’s braids weren’t going to be the end of it.</p><p>“Ooh, that one is pretty.” Ann points at something on Futaba’s phone. “It looks kinda complicated, though. Oh! Hey, Akechi!”</p><p>“Hello. What’s going on?”</p><p>“We’re looking at braids,” Futaba says. “We’re gonna bully Joker into doing hair again.”</p><p>“Apparently, he can <em> French braid</em>,” Ann says. “I’ve never been able to do a French braid! It’s <em> so cool. </em>”</p><p>“I <em> can </em> French braid.” Akira walks into the room with a massive bowl of popcorn, shaking his head. “I never said I was <em> good </em> at it.”</p><p>“It’s okay, you can get plenty of practice in! You’re like, <em> surrounded </em> by girls.”</p><p>“Kurusu, I have a great deal of respect for you, but you are <em> not </em> touching my hair,” Makoto says from the couch. Haru is lying with her head in Makoto’s lap.</p><p>“I suppose you <em> could </em> braid my hair,” Haru says, pinching a few of the pink curls between her fingers, “but it <em> is </em> a bit short.”</p><p>“It’s not <em> that </em> short,” Akira says, shrugging. “I used to, uh. Practice on myself, actually. It might look a bit silly, but you can braid <em> anyone’s </em> hair.”</p><p>Goro’s heart perks up at that. He squashes it back down.</p><p>“Well, I have first dibs,” Ann says. “I want French braids!”</p><p>“I’ve always found braids to be quite beautiful,” Yusuke says from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. “The practice dates back thousands of years, you know. If you don’t mind, I’d love to sketch the two of you. The intimacy of carding your hands through another’s hair-“</p><p>“Dude, <em> gross</em>,” Ryuji groans, cheeks flushing. “I don’t wanna think about Akira getting <em> intimate. </em>Thanks, but no thanks.”</p><p>Goro’s mind turns unbidden to the thought of Akira running his hand through Goro’s hair — a soft, tender motion, filled with passion rather than platonic affection. <em> I wonder if he’s that kind of lover, </em> Goro thinks. <em> Maybe he is. Or maybe he’s the sort of lover who’d grab a fistful of my hair and- </em></p><p>“Calm down, Ryuji, nobody’s getting <em> intimate</em>,” Ann says, already pulling an elastic out of her hair. <em> Get it together, </em>he thinks.</p><p>She passes the ties to Akira, settling onto the floor while he settles behind her on the couch. “Futaba, do you wanna get the movie started?”</p><p>Goro assumes his usual position in the recliner, a comfortable distance away from the affectionate pile of street cats on the couch. Futaba dims the lights and starts the movie, chattering about trivia as the intro plays.</p><p>Akira starts braiding Ann’s hair.</p><p>Ann’s doll-like face looks even more gorgeous in the dim light. Her and Akira would make a beautiful couple — him with his black waves, her with her pile of fluffy blonde locks. A beautiful study in aesthetic contrast. Ann’s instagram followers wouldn’t know what to do with themselves. </p><p>Goro looks away from them, biting the inside of his mouth until he can almost taste copper. The pain sends a wave of tears prickling into his eyes.</p><p>“You good?” Futaba whispers from beside him on the floor. <em> She sure is perceptive when she wants to be</em>, Goro thinks.</p><p>“Yes, of course. My eyes are just a bit dry today.” Goro rubs at them for show, tying the ribbon around what he knows is an utterly unconvincing performance.</p><p>“Alright then,” Futaba shrugs, turning back to the movie.</p><p>Goro does his best to pay attention to the screen, but his traitorous eyes keep fluttering back to Akira — Akira with his long fingers and defined forearms, pinching and curling Ann’s hair in a mesmerizing pattern that Goro doesn’t quite understand. Every once in a while, he fumbles, sucking his teeth as he undoes some of his handiwork. </p><p><em> I wonder what it feels like, </em> Goro thinks, resisting the urge to fiddle with his own brown tresses. He’s never had his hair <em> manipulated </em> like that before. Sure, he’s had haircuts, and he has a few fond memories of his mother trying to flatten his childhood mane.</p><p>But he’s never had anything like <em> that.</em> He’s so unfamiliar with that level of casual intimacy that he wouldn’t know what to <em> do </em> with it.</p><p>Finally — blessedly — Akira finishes, wrapping the end of the second braid in bright red elastic. “Done,” he says, making his final adjustments. Ann beams over her shoulder at him, pulling out her phone to take a quick selfie.</p><p>Goro breathes a sigh of relief when she gets up and moves <em> away </em> from Akira, settling in next to Makoto and Haru.</p><p>“My turn!” Futaba cheers, already pulling out her set of Featherman scrunchies.</p><p><em> Fuck</em>, Goro thinks. <em> Fuck my </em> life<em>. </em></p><hr/><p>Goro spends the rest of the movie wishing he were dead.</p><p>“These are way nicer than the first ones,” Futaba says, pinching one of her braids between indelicate fingers. The credits are rolling now — Ann busies herself playing host, cleaning up the table while everyone chats amongst themselves. Goro is half-taking-part in a conversation with Yusuke about the artistic merit of the film he’d been utterly incapable of watching.</p><p>“The shot composition left something to be desired,” Yusuke notes, pressing his thumb into his chin. “But the story itself was intriguing.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Goro hums with a nod, having realized by now that it’s best to go along with whatever Yusuke is saying.</p><p>“Hey! You better not be dissing Back to the Ninja Part 3,” Futaba yells across the room. “This movie <em> owns</em>. It’s considered a classic for a reason.”</p><p>“You guys are so silly,” Haru giggles. She’s playing with the braid Akira wove into her hair — because of course he couldn’t stop with Futaba. Hers is two-stranded, wrapping around her forehead like a tiara and fastened inelegantly in the back with bobby-pins from the bottom of Ann’s purse.</p><p>“Alright! There should be plenty of bedding as long as we share. My parents said they’re fine with people staying over. Just don’t make too much noise,” Ann says, holding a massive pile of bedding in her arms.</p><p>“Nice,” Ryuji says, yawning. “Wait, share?”</p><p>“Haru and I can share one,” Makoto says, grabbing a pillow and a blanket from the pile. Haru blushes, grinning behind her dainty hand. </p><p>“I’ll share with Ann then,” Futaba says. “Girls rule, boys drool — you know the drill.”</p><p>“I’m sharing with Akechi,” Akira says, already grabbing a blanket from the pile.</p><p>Goro’s brain grinds to a screeching, stuttering halt.</p><p>“What?! Come on, man! I thought we were bros,” Ryuji whines.</p><p>“Your feet are cold,” Akira shrugs. Ryuji grabs a pillow and whacks him with it.</p><p>“Fine. I’ll just share with <em> Yusuke </em> then,” Ryuji mutters. Yusuke, to his credit, doesn’t look the least bit slighted by this. In fact, he seems to be... blushing?</p><p><em>Join the club</em>, Goro thinks — his palms are already sweating.</p><hr/><p>A little while later, they’re all washed and dressed for bed. Goro goes to the bathroom last, and takes the longest — he spends a miserable handful of minutes attacking his face with cold water, begging it to stop flushing scarlet. (It doesn’t work.)</p><p>By the time he re-enters the living room, Ryuji is already sound asleep on the floor, snuffling out snores beside an enraptured Yusuke. Haru and Makoto are cuddled together on the couch. Ann and Futaba are looking at their phones through sleepy, half-lidded eyes.</p><p>And finally, there’s Akira, grinning up at him from the floor. Goro steels himself and walks over.</p><p>“Hey,” Akira whispers, a grin still plastered on his face. “There was only one pillow left, so we’re gonna have to share. Hopefully that’s okay?” He phrases it like a question, as though Goro has any <em> choice </em>in the matter. Goro sighs.</p><p>“Of course,” Goro whispers back, lowering himself onto the floor. “Thank you for letting me share with you,” he adds, hoping that the formality will mask the fact that he feels like his skin is going to melt off.</p><p>“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Akira says, voice still soft. With one arm, he lifts the blanket. “You getting in? I promise not to be a blanket hog.”</p><p>Goro looks at Akira, really <em> looks </em> at him — messy hair, no glasses, cheek pressed against the pillow, oversized shirt slipping down over his collarbone. When he swallows, his mouth feels like it’s full of sand. </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Once Goro settles in, Akira drops the blanket around him, fingertips brushing over his shoulder for a short, scalding moment. The blanket feels too hot, too heavy. Goro doesn’t know which will be worse — facing towards Akira, or away from him. For now, he’s faced towards the other boy with his head tilted down, and he’s finding it very hard to breathe.</p><p>“Hmm,” Akira hums, stretching his arms over his head and oh, God, Goro can <em> smell </em> him. He smells like deodorant and musk and Goro wants to bury his nose in it and never leave. “Tonight was fun.”</p><p>“Y-yes. Though I must say, I didn’t realize you were pursuing a secondary career as a hair-stylist. It’s so <em> generous </em> of you to provide your services for free.”</p><p>Akira huffs out a laugh. “What can I say? My generosity knows no bounds.”</p><p>“Akira Kurusu — the wildcard, the jack of all trades, collector of part-time jobs and half-hearted hobbies,” Goro whispers, unable to keep the playful undertone of sarcasm out of his voice even as his heart zips around his abdomen like a pinball. “You’re a pain in the ass to have as a rival, you know. I’ll never be able to keep up with you.”</p><p>“I think you do an admirable job,” Akira murmurs, smiling. Their faces are close, closer than they’ve ever been. Goro can smell the mint of Akira’s toothpaste, can see the exaggerated fan of his eyelashes, can almost <em> taste </em> him.</p><p>“Maybe I should learn how to braid, too. I’m sure I could give you a run for your money. Besides, I’m always looking for ways to keep my hair out of my face.”</p><p>“You could do that. Or,” Akira whispers, voice dropping even lower. “You could just let <em> me </em> braid your hair.”</p><p>Through a concentrated, valiant effort, Goro does <em> not </em> choke to death on his own tongue.</p><p>“You just want to make me look stupid,” Goro mutters, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Who, me? Never,” Akira hisses, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Maybe I want to make you look <em> pretty</em>.”</p><p>“Oh? Am I not <em> pretty </em> enough for you, Kurusu-kun?”</p><p>“You’re <em> plenty </em> pretty enough for me, Goro-chan,” Akira chuckles, shaking his head. Goro flicks him on the nose, eliciting a breathy, devilish chuckle.</p><p>Goro doesn’t know what to say — he never knows what to say to Akira’s flirting. It always leaves him breathless and flustered, the all-to-familiar ache of desire clawing at his chest.</p><p>Sometimes, he wonders if Akira means it. <em> No,</em> he thinks, <em> of course he doesn’t.</em> <em>He’s like this with everyone. </em></p><p><em> “</em>Then I suppose there’s no need for you to do my hair,” Goro says after a moment, although he wants to beat himself with a metal pipe for not taking Akira up on the offer — even if it <em> was </em> only in jest.</p><p>“Right, of course,” Akira sighs, “I guess there’s not.”</p><p>Goro turns over so that they’re no longer facing each other, inching away even though his very <em> atoms </em> ache to drag him closer.</p><p>“We should sleep,” Goro whispers. “Good night, Kurusu.”</p><p>“Good night, Akechi.”</p><hr/><p>Goro tends to feel cold — winter doesn’t agree with him, no matter how much it may agree with his penchant for scarves and gloves. Even air conditioning can be too much for him. He usually only <em> stops </em> feeling cold in the summertime.</p><p>So it’s a surprise to wake up feeling warm. Warmer than he’s felt in years, perhaps even <em> hot.</em> He sighs, burrowing into that warmth, letting it wash over him in waves.</p><p>The warmth burrows back.</p><p>Goro freezes.</p><p>It’s unmistakable, now — he can feel Akira’s body against his own, Akira’s nose buried in his neck, Akira’s arms wrapped around his waist, Akira’s hands pressed into the bare skin underneath his t-shirt.</p><p>Goro swallows a whimper, trapping it in his throat, <em> begging </em> it not to leave.</p><p>He doesn't dare move. Part of him wants to shove Akira away, but mostly... mostly, he doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t <em> want </em> Akira to wake up. He wishes he could stay like this forever, tucked away in Akira Kurusu’s arms like something precious, like something that deserves to be <em> held</em>.</p><p>Akira hums in his sleep, shifting. His nose drags up Akechi’s neck, hands tightening in a way that sets Goro’s waist on fire. A long, slow breath hisses out against the skin of Goro’s neck, tickling his ear.</p><p>Goro has never ‘cuddled’ before. He’s not a virgin, so human contact isn’t <em> entirely </em> foreign to him. But he’s never had a partner to <em> sleep </em> with or <em> canoodle </em> with.</p><p>He never thought that it could feel so — so — <em> what’s the word? </em></p><p><em> “Mmph</em><em>,” </em> Akira mumbles, dragging Goro closer, firm hands staking their claim on his body.</p><p><em> Electric,</em> Goro thinks, clenching his fists around their shared blanket. <em> I never thought it would feel so </em>electric.</p><p>“Oh,” Akira mumbles, rousing from sleep. “Uh. Good morning,” he says, sheepish. After a long moment, he pulls away, untangling their limbs. “I’m... sorry about that. I’m a cuddly sleeper.”</p><p><em> No</em>, Goro wants to say, <em> don’t stop holding me. Please, </em> please <em> don’t stop holding me. </em></p><p>“It’s alright,” Goro says instead, heart racing. “We all have our faults. I only plan to blackmail you... <em> slightly.</em>”</p><p>Akira chuckles, and just like that, the spell is broken.</p><hr/><p>Later that day, Akechi flips through his planner — checking and double checking for any missed assignments or faulty itineraries.</p><p>He doesn’t get haircuts very often. He doesn’t enjoy them, and he keeps his hair long enough that there’s never a pressing need to go get one. Still, he tries to go in for semi-regular trims. In fact, he has a note written on his calendar for the day — <em> schedule haircut, </em>it says.</p><p>Against his will, images of Akira‘s hands flash through his mind. <em> You could just let </em> me <em> braid your hair, </em> he’d said, half-joking in the darkness of Ann’s living room.</p><p>Before he can think twice, he crosses out the note with a firm stroke of his pen.</p><hr/><p>A few weeks pass. Goro remains haunted by the memory of waking up in Akira’s arms, but he’s been busy enough with classes to ignore it for the most part.</p><p>Fortunately, Goro has managed to avoid any of the ridiculous hair-braiding sessions that the girls keep chattering about, although sometimes he sees the aftermath, either in person or through social media. On one memorable occasion, they even got Akira to braid his <em> own </em> hair — a simple affair to pull his bangs back, pinned behind the ear with a heart shaped barrette.</p><p>“Guess what I have,” Ann sings, springing upstairs with shopping bags dangling from her arms.</p><p>He looks over at Makoto. She sighs, putting down her pencil — an early admission of defeat. <em> I don’t know why we bother, </em> Akechi thinks.</p><p>“Is it a puppy? I hope it’s a puppy,” Akira jokes, looking up from his own homework.</p><p>“I hope it’s arson supplies,” Futaba groans, burying her face in her knees. “I’m <em> sick </em> of being a third-year. I’m gonna burn my school down.”</p><p>“Well, uh. It’s neither of those things. But it’s still fun! Look!”</p><p><em> Oh God, </em> Goro thinks as Ann starts pulling out dozens of pins and hair ties and scrunchies and elastics and — <em> what even </em> is <em> that? </em></p><p>“This one is shaped like a band-aid! Isn’t it <em> cute</em>? I went to Harajuku with Shiho,” she says, almost vibrating with excitement, “and one of the stores had a bunch of hair stuff on clearance.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Akira hums, picking up a set of bobby-pins with bumblebees on the end. “I think I can see where this is going.”</p><p>“<em>Pleeeease</em>? I’ll do yours too, if you want! Hell, we can even do <em> Akechi’s </em> hair. It’s getting pretty long these days.”</p><p>Akechi looks over at Akira, who’s smirking like the devil. “All right, I’m sold.”</p><p>“<em>I’m not</em>,” Goro protests, because oh, <em> God</em>. He doesn’t think he can handle Akira’s hands playing with his hair in front of everyone like this. He’s not even sure he could handle it <em> alone</em>.</p><p>“Well, nobody’s gonna force you,” Ann sighs. Haru perks up from where she’s been napping on the couch, stretching her dainty limbs.</p><p>“Oh! Hello, Ann. Did you go shopping?”</p><p>Fifteen minutes later, anyone’s illusions of productivity have been destroyed, the attic table cleared of work to make space for Ann’s bounty. Akira brushes her hair while she brushes Futaba’s hair — a scene which even Goro has to admit is sweet. Futaba, meanwhile, is inspecting each accessory with a critical eye.</p><p>“This one is pretty cute,” she says, holding up a clip with a little UFO glued onto it. It’s part of a matching set — there’s a UFO, an alien, and a cow getting abducted.</p><p>“You should wear them! The green will look cute against your hair,” Ann says, spraying a bit of detangler into the ends of Futaba’s mane. <em> This has become a rather sophisticated operation, </em> Goro thinks.</p><p>“Oh, hey! There’s some green elastics too. And some little green — wait. What <em> are </em> these? The little spirals.”</p><p>“You twist them in. At least, I think that’s how they work? I’ve had them shoved in my hair for photo shoots before, but I’m usually not paying much attention.”</p><p>“Well, whatever they are, they match,” Futaba says, arranging her fingers in a menacing steeple. “Mwehehe — matchy matchy.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re saying half the time, but I support you!” Ann says, fluffing out Futaba’s freshly combed hair.</p><p>Akira is already combing his fingers across Ann’s scalp, inspecting it. “I think I’m going to do a rope braid,” he says, carefully parting her hair to the left with his comb.</p><p>“Go for it,” Ann says. Futaba gets up to rifle through the rest of the shopping bags.</p><p>“Aw, hey! We should use these on Akechi,” Futaba says, pulling out a bunch of little black crow pins.</p><p>“Why do you think I got them?” Ann giggles, fiddling with her phone.</p><p>“Once again,” Akechi hisses, “I <em> really </em> don’t think I’ll be participating.”</p><p>“Hm. <em> I </em> think you should,” Akira says, looking up from Ann’s hair to smirk at him. Goro’s heart speeds up.</p><p>“... I’ll think about it,” Goro mumbles, going back to the difficult but important task of not-looking-at-Akira-while-he-braids-hair. (It’s easier now that he’s had a bit of practice. It’s still not very easy.)</p><p>“I like these,” Haru says, holding a set of cat-themed barrettes up to the light. Each one is dusted in a fine coat of pink glitter that looks like it would get <em> everywhere.</em> “Makoto, would you do the honors?”</p><p>Makoto sighs, but she takes the set nonetheless, setting to work on her girlfriend’s frizzy pink hair.</p><p>Goro <em> is </em> starting to feel a little left out. Reluctantly, he pulls a few items towards him, making a show of holding them up to look at their designs.</p><p>“Yesssss,” Futaba whispers, “<em>join us.</em>”</p><p>“I’m <em> thinking </em> about it,” Goro says, twirling a set of red bobby-pins in between prim fingers.</p><p>Akira’s fingers are busy braiding a rope-like crown around Ann’s head, taking time to tuck in each and every errant strand. Goro imagines those strong fingers curled around <em> his </em> hair — pulling pieces into place around his face, blunt fingernails scraping his scalp.</p><p>“These red ones look rather fetching,” Goro admits, feeling bold. “What do you think, Kurusu-kun?”</p><p>“Anything would look fetching on <em> you,</em> honey,” Akira says with a wink. Futaba makes an exaggerated retching noise.</p><p>“Keep it in the bedroom, boys,” Ann teases, rolling her eyes.</p><p>“To be fair, this <em> is </em> my bedroom,” Akira points out, gesturing with his free hand at the dingy attic.</p><p>“Hm, yeah, you got me there,” Ann says, shrugging. The braid is almost finished now — it curls around her head and over her shoulder like a golden snake, dazzling in the sunlight that pours through the attic window. Grabbing a hand mirror, she starts holding up various clips to her hair, testing them out.</p><p>“My turn,” Futaba chirps, turning to make her hair accessible to Akira, who wastes no time parting her hair with the comb. His fingers make quick work of the first French braid, the loose plait falling down her back in no time at all. Akira secures it with a green elastic, and gets to work on the next one.</p><p>“Damn, Joker, you’ve gotten <em> fast,” </em>Futaba comments, fiddling with her UFO barrette. Goro watches the way his hands fly over her head, mouth going dry.</p><p>“If you don’t mind,” Goro says, shoving the words past the throbbing heart in his throat, “I’d like to go next. At the very least, I feel like I should learn what all the fuss is about.”</p><p>“It would be my honor,” Akira says, hands faltering for a moment halfway down Futaba’s back. <em> Is he... nervous? </em> Goro wonders, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest.</p><p>“You guys are so stupid,” Makoto mutters, words muffled by the bobby-pins she’s holding between her teeth.</p><p>Goro picks up the card full of crow pins and starts plucking them off. They’re flimsy, and clearly very cheap — but there’s something charming about them nonetheless.</p><p>“Alright, done! Go forth and conquer,” Akira says, patting Futaba’s head carefully. He spins to face Akechi, rubbing his hands together. “Now, <em> Crow.”</em></p><p>Goro swallows. “Yes, <em> Joker?”</em></p><p>“Sometimes I regret the nicknames,” Ann sighs, looking meaningfully over at Makoto, who rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Your hair is short,” Akira continues, ignoring Ann’s comment, “but it’s long enough for a ponytail. I’ll just braid your bangs and tie it off in the back. Is that okay?”</p><p>“My fate lies in your hands,” Goro says, handing over the fistful of crow pins. Akira accepts them — allowing their fingers to brush against each other for a single, glorious moment — and places a few between his lips.</p><p>“Alright,” Akira says, and then his fingers are finally, <em> finally </em> carding through Goro‘s hair, pulling it back and away from his face. Goro tries to remain stoic — and, to an extent, he succeeds — but he can’t <em> help </em> but lean into Akira’s warm, gentle touch. “Are you tender headed?” Akira asks, running a brush through his hair.</p><p>“I, uh, don’t think so?”</p><p>“Okay, well, let me know if I pull too hard,” Akira says. Goro resists the urge to snort. <em> God, if only, </em> he thinks — but then Akira’s hands are back in his hair, one cradling his head while the other runs a brush through with firm, gentle strokes. </p><p>Goro can’t think anymore. Goro can barely <em> breathe</em>.</p><p>With the hand that isn’t brushing, Akira lets his fingers trail across Goro’s scalp, the sensation sending delicious shivers down his spine. After the debacle at Ann’s, Goro knows what Akira’s <em> body </em> feels like, for heaven’s sake. But this — this is even more intimate, somehow. Goro feels himself melting and he doesn’t know how to stop. He doesn’t <em> want </em> to stop.</p><p>Futaba and Ann are busying themselves around the table, decorating each other’s braids. Makoto is carefully lining up a row of barrettes in Haru’s hair. And Goro... isn’t even <em> in the room.</em> Not really.</p><p>“You okay?” Akira whispers, parting Goro’s hair. The comb slides gently against his scalp, and Goro resists the urge to hum contentedly.</p><p>“Yes, of course,” Goro says, hoping to sound at least <em> somewhat </em> unaffected. “I’m not used to having my hair touched, so forgive me if I make a poor model.“</p><p>Akira chuckles. “You’re doing fine,” he says, pulling two strands away from the part. Goro can’t see what’s going on, but he can feel everything — the soft twisting of his hair, the scrape of Akira‘s blunt nails, the too-gentle pull on his scalp.</p><p>It seems like Akira is taking his time — <em> perhaps because the short hair makes things more difficult, </em>Goro thinks — but he isn’t complaining. He doesn’t care what the end result looks like.</p><p>Akira secures something with a pin, sliding it in with a slow, careful motion.</p><p>“Aww, look at the little crow pin!” Futaba coos, pointing at Goro’s head. “That’s <em> adorable</em>.” Goro can’t even find it within himself to scowl.</p><p>“Uh oh,” Ann says, frowning at her phone. “Yusuke needs help with his sculpture again. Does it really have to be <em> twenty feet tall</em>?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Makoto sighs. “That’s art school for you. Are we going to go help him again?”</p><p>“I’m down,” Futaba says, jumping up. “That elephant looks <em> so </em> badass.”</p><p>“I think I’ll stay here,” Akira says, placing another pin into the braid. “I wanted to go to bed early anyway, I have work at like, 4AM.”</p><p>“Gross,” Ann says, wrinkling her nose. “Akechi, you sure you don’t wanna come? Don’t let Akira hold you hostage.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Goro says. “I’ll need to go to bed early tonight as well. Send Yusuke my regards.”</p><p>“Sure,” Ann says, grabbing her bag. “I’m leaving all the hair stuff here for now. You guys have fun! I want pictures of Goro’s hair!”</p><p>And with that, the four girls file out of the attic, leaving Goro and Akira alone. Goro swallows.</p><p>“You... you don’t have to finish if you don’t want to,” Goro offers. “It’s fine if you need to get rest.”</p><p>“Oh! No, please,” Akira says, “I’ve already started, it would feel weird not to finish. <em> You’re </em> okay though, right?” Akira scrapes a gentle hand through Goro’s hair to neaten the strands. Goro nearly shivers.</p><p>“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Goro says. “I’m interested to see how it’ll look.”</p><p>Akira hums, places a pin behind Akechi’s ear, and lets go of the strands to look at Goro from the front. He frowns. “Oh no,” he says, biting his lip.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“It’s just... you’re even <em> prettier </em> with your hair pushed away from your face,” Akira admits, smirking. “I almost can’t stand to look at you.”</p><p>Goro rolls his eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” he says, heart pounding.</p><p>“That’s a shame,” Akira huffs, going back around to continue Goro’s braid. “Ah, well. I tried.”</p><p>“I guess you’ll have to try harder next time,” Goro teases, the words slipping out of his lips before he has the chance to reign them in. <em> Keep your goddamn mouth shut, Akechi</em>, he berates himself. <em> Unless you </em> want <em> Akira to know how pathetic you really are. </em></p><p>Akira barks out a startled laugh, fingers slipping for a fraction of a second. “Maybe I will,” he says, dragging his fingers up Goro’s neck to collect the downy brunette strands that rest there. Goro can’t stop the shudder that courses through him.</p><p>“You alright?” Akira asks, and <em> oh, fuck, he knows,</em> Goro thinks. <em> He </em> must <em> know. </em></p><p>“I’m <em> fine,” </em>Goro hisses. “I’m just... not used to it.”</p><p>“Yeah, that makes sense,” Akira says, pinning something against the back of Akechi’s neck. <em> It’s almost finished</em>, Goro thinks, <em> it must be. Do I want it to end? </em></p><p>“Hmm,” Akira says, fingers brushing through the strands at the base of Goro’s neck. “I hate to say this, but I think I might start over. The braid is kind of lumpy.”</p><p>Goro’s breath hitches in his throat.</p><p>“O-okay,” he says. “Whatever you need to do.”</p><p>Akira slides out all of the pins and shakes Goro’s hair loose, and they’re back to square one, Akira’s fingers trailing from Goro’s scalp to the nape of his neck.</p><p>Akira hums, tilting Goro’s head from side to side, inspecting something that Goro can’t see. “I think I’ll make the part a little closer to the center,” Akira says, resting his comb against Goro’s hairline. Goro nods, the motion causing the comb to give his scalp a little scratch.</p><p>Akira parts his hair and begins the braid again, fingers moving a little bit quicker than they were before — a little bit <em> firmer </em> too, each tug sending peculiar shivers down Goro’s neck.</p><p>“I’m gonna use more pins, too,” Akira says, a pin sliding into place against Goro’s scalp. “Your hair is so fine — we wouldn’t want it to fall apart, would we?”</p><p>“Perish the thought,” Goro murmurs, higher brain functions relenting to the buzz of pleasure that courses through him.</p><p>Akira keeps braiding, and Goro finally, <em> finally </em> gives in — his eyes slip shut and he leans shamelessly into the touch, pleasant shivers dancing across his spine as Akira pulls and tucks his hair into place.</p><p>“I’m... almost done,” Akira whispers, dragging slow fingers across the braids that now frame each side of Akechi’s face. He tugs the loose strands at the back into a ponytail, securing them with a piece of elastic.</p><p>“How does it look?” Goro asks, trying not to sound too disappointed. Akira moves back around to look at him. He places a crooked finger underneath Goro’s chin, tilting his head back and forth to inspect his craftsmanship.</p><p>“Breathtaking,” he whispers, bringing his still crooked finger up to stroke Goro’s cheekbone. Goro doesn’t dare breathe. “The braid is pretty nice, too,” he adds, smirking. Goro whacks his arm.</p><p>“You’re the worst,” Goro mutters, bringing his left hand up to prod at the braids. They’re surprisingly sturdy — Akira used all 12 crow pins as well as a handful of plain black ones. “Is there still a mirror?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, here,” Akira says, reaching across the table to grab a little hand mirror, passing it to Goro with a smile.</p><p>Goro looks... <em> pretty</em>. That’s the only word for it. His face looks rounder with his hair pulled back, more delicate. He still looks like a <em> boy,</em> of course — but with this crown of braids atop his head, he’a a bit more ethereal, almost <em> fey</em>. Coupled with the little crows that dance through his hair, he looks like he belongs at some strange, androgynous photo shoot.</p><p>“It looks... perfect,” he says. He wishes there were something, anything that needs to be fixed — anything to get Akira’s hands back on him. “You did a wonderful job, Kurusu.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Akira says, lips curled into a soft smile.</p><p>“I guess I should get going,” Goro sighs, standing up. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your rest.”</p><p>“My rest? Oh, right,” Akira says, “I have, uh, work in the morning. You’re not interrupting anything, though. I promise.”</p><p>“You’re too <em> polite</em>, Akira,” Goro accuses. “A crueler man would take advantage, you know.”</p><p>“No,” Akira says, stepping into Goro’s space. They’re face to face now, just like they’d been that fateful night at Ann’s. “A crueler man would <em> leave</em>.”</p><p>“You finished my hair, as promised,” Goro says, looking away. “I really shouldn’t impose.”</p><p>“Hm. I guess you’re right. Actually, wait—“ Akira stops, squinting his eyes at Goro’s hair. “I think I see a mistake.”</p><p>“No you don’t, it looks <em> fine</em>.”</p><p>“No, I do,” Akira insists. He reaches his hand up towards Goro’s braided bangs. “It’s right here,” he says, grabbing a strand of hair and pulling it free. “Oops. What a shame. I must not have used enough pins.”</p><p>“Akira...” Goro says, shocked. “I don’t... do you <em> really </em> want to... What, are you <em> that </em> desperate to get your hands on me?” It’s meant to come out as a joke — they joke like this all the time, after all — but it feels different under Akira’s heated gaze.</p><p>“Ah, it seems you’ve finally caught on,” Akira laughs, cupping his hands around Akechi’s neck. “Congratulations, <em> detective. </em>You solved the mystery.”</p><p>“I never <em> thought</em>,” Goro chokes, skin burning underneath Akira’s hands. “I mean, I always thought it was just... for fun. But you really—“</p><p>“Goro,” Akira whispers, cutting the other man off. “You have no idea how crazy you make me.”</p><p>Goro whimpers, leaning in — and before he can think twice, they’re kissing, lips crushed against one another like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered. Goro parts his mouth, inviting Akira’s hot tongue against his with a moan, wrapping needy arms around the other man’s shoulders. By the time they pull away, they’re both panting into each other’s mouths.</p><p>“Akira,” Goro moans, tone more adoring than it is erotic. “Oh, <em> fuck. </em>The things I want you to <em> do </em> to me.”</p><p>Akira tightens his hands around Goro’s waist, pressing deep kisses into the other man’s neck. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” Akira murmurs into his skin. “Anything.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Goro hums, catching his breath. “What do <em> you </em> want, Akira?” Goro asks, a challenging edge to his voice. “You <em> always </em> do whatever you think other people want. What does <em> Akira Kurusu </em> want right now? Do you want me on my knees, or against a wall — or maybe you want to <em> make love </em> to me. Is that it?”</p><p>Akira pulls away from Goro’s neck to look at him, pupils blown wide enough to turn his brown eyes black. “Goro,” he whispers, snaking his hand up the other man’s back until his fingers are twisting around Goro’s ponytail. “You can’t just ask me that. I want <em> everything </em> from you,” he says, latching his fingers around the back of Goro’s braids and <em> pulling</em>. “Do you understand? <em> Everything</em>.”</p><p>Goro moans, eyes rolling back into his skull. “Shit,” he hisses. “Do that again, please.”</p><p>Akira smirks, tugging Goro’s hair even harder this time. “Wow, you <em> really </em> like having your hair played with,” he says. “I had my suspicions, but this is...” he pauses to play with the little hairs at the base of Goro’s neck, sending shivers down Goro’s spine that he doesn’t bother concealing. “Fuck, you’re so amazing.”</p><p>Goro whines, leaning into Akira, unable to stand. “Come here,” Akira laughs, using the hands around Goro’s waist to lead him over to the bed. Goro falls gratefully backwards, gazing up at Akira through half-lidded eyes, hoping to look more sensual than desperate.</p><p>“Goro,” Akira says, crawling on top of him with slow, feline grace. “Tell me what you need,” he continues, using one hand to pick apart the buttons of Goro’s shirt.</p><p>“I <em> don’t care</em>,” Goro whimpers, squirming on the duvet. “As long as you keep touching me.”</p><p>“I think I can manage that,” Akira laughs, pulling Goro forward to slip off his button up shirt. Shaky hands rub up and down Goro‘s abdomen, caressing him like they’ve been lovers for decades rather than mere minutes. “Goro, I lo—“ </p><p>“I know,” Goro whispers. “I feel it too. Just... not yet, okay? Please.”</p><p>Akira presses his face into Goro’s stomach, breathing in deep. “Okay,” he sighs. “Not yet,” he says, voice carrying an undercurrent of <em> promise</em>. His lips press soft kisses against Goro’s hipbone.</p><p>Things are gentle, for a moment. Goro catches his breath, heart still racing, enjoying the slow heat of Akira’s lips rubbing against his skin.</p><p>Akira looks up, and Goro’s breath hitches. With one hand, Akira reaches up to rub Goro’s nipple. With the other, he pulls down Akira’s pants to expose the rest of his hip bone. And finally, with his mouth, he presses against the soft flesh beside Goro’s hip and <em> bites</em>.</p><p>“<em>Oh,” </em> Goro moans, heat pooling in his abdomen. If he wasn’t hard before, he is <em> now</em>, cock straining desperately against his pants. Akira smirks, nipping his teeth into Goro‘s skin while he undoes the man’s pants, slipping them down and off. He removes his own t-shirt in one smooth motion, tossing it onto the floor.</p><p>Goro’s cock perks up as soon as it’s freed, dripping precum onto his abdomen. Akira looks down at him with lust-blown eyes.</p><p>“Shit,” Akira groans, collapsing down onto Goro, running desperate hands all over his naked body. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I don’t even know where to <em> start</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Fuck me</em>,” Goro groans, spreading his legs to grind helplessly against Akira’s abdomen. “Please, Akira. I need you.”</p><p>It’s Akira’s turn to whimper — a desperate, needy little sound that makes Goro ache for more. “Well, I can’t really <em> start </em> with that,” Akira laughs, breathless, “but we can, um, work our way up to it. <em> Fuck,</em>” he hisses, grinding his hips, the two of them chasing the same pleasure.</p><p>Akira tries to move away, but Goro stops him, trapping his limbs tightly around the other man. A soft noise of displeasure escapes from his lungs without permission, and Akira laughs.</p><p>“Honey,” he whispers, “if you want me to <em> fuck </em> you,” he says, breath puffing against Goro‘s ear, “you’ll need to let me go get something first.”</p><p>“Ugh, <em> fine,” </em>Goro sighs, letting go. “But make it quick.”</p><p>Akira removes his belt on the short trip to his bedside table, waistband falling to reveal the top of his hips. Even through the loose fabric, Goro can see the bulge of his erection — has <em> felt </em> the bulge of that erection.</p><p>Goro bites his lip, squirming.</p><p>After a moment, Akira finds what he’s looking for and tosses it onto the bed. He turns back to face Goro and smirks, unbuttoning his jeans. “Like what you see?” he teases, trailing his fingers down his happy trail to dip into the waistband of his boxers.</p><p>“I’d like it <em> better </em> if it were on top of me.”</p><p>“God, you’re such a brat,” Akira sighs, kicking his jeans off onto the floor. He slips the boxers off slowly, <em> finally </em> freeing his erection. Goro’s mouth goes dry.</p><p>“Alright,” Akira whispers, grabbing the bottle of lube. He unclicks the cap, pouring some onto his long fingers, rubbing them to warm it up. “Have you, uh... done this before?” Akira blushes.</p><p>“Y-yes,” Goro admits. “Not in a while, but yes. I also do it to... myself. A lot. So I wouldn’t worry too much.” Akira moans.</p><p>“That mental image is dangerous,” Akira says, moving in between Goro’s thighs, pressing a kiss into the smooth skin there. “I’d love to watch you open yourself up. Not tonight,” Akira clarifies, pressing his wet finger against Goro’s fluttering hole. “But someday.” He rubs his finger in little circles, and Goro groans.</p><p>“Don’t be a <em> tease,” </em>Goro complains, bucking desperately against Akira’s finger. Akira massages him gently, working the lubricant into his skin.</p><p>“Have some patience,” Akira says, moving up to press a gentle kiss against Goro‘s hard cock. He dips the pad of his finger inside Goro’s ass — and then pulls back out.</p><p>“I’m going to strangle you.”</p><p>“Maybe I <em> want </em> you to strangle me,” Akira half-jokes, something honest written in his smirk. Goro’s heart flips. <em> Interesting,</em> he thinks.</p><p>And then Akira’s finger sinks inside of him, and he stops thinking altogether.</p><p>“<em>O-oh,” </em>Goro sighs, grinding down onto Akira’s finger. It’s still not enough, but it’s <em> something,</em> and Goro can’t help himself. Akira continues working his finger in and out, slow and methodical.</p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Akira whispers, finger still taking its precious time working Goro open. Akira moves so that he’s hovering above Goro, his free hand coming up to tuck some strands back into Goro’s braids. Goro snorts.</p><p>“I think my braids might be a lost cause,” Goro says, looking up even though he knows he won’t be able to see them.</p><p>“Hmm, that’s alright,” Akira says, pressing a kiss against Goro’s hairline. “I’ll fix them after I’m done with you.” He lines up a second finger, pushing it in oh-so-slowly alongside the first. Goro sighs.</p><p>“This is torture,” Goro says. Akira smirks, fingers working in and out, the sensation enough to set Goro’s skin on fire — but not nearly enough to give him what he wants.</p><p>“Good,” Akira says, crooking his fingers ever-so-slightly, just barely brushing against Goro’s prostate. Goro shifts his hips to chase the feeling, pressing his head into Akira’s skin with a grunt.</p><p>Akira moves to kiss him, slow and sweet, a delicious juxtaposition against the hot fingers scissoring in and out of his ass. Eventually, Akira pulls out, grabbing more lube. For a blissful, exciting moment, Goro thinks he’s about to start fucking him, and then-</p><p>“Oh, <em> for fucks sake,” </em>Goro whines, three slick fingers pressed against his hole. Akira chuckles, pushing them in to the first knuckle.</p><p>“I just want to make you feel good,” Akira says, but he’s smirking, and Goro <em> knows </em> he’s enjoying this.</p><p>“I’d feel better if you’d — <em> oh,</em>” Goro moans, because now Akira has three fingers pumping in and out of his ass, dragging firm and hot against the spot that lights his abdomen on fire.</p><p>“What was that? I couldn’t quite make it out.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Goro hisses. Akira does, for once, finger-fucking Goro within an inch of his life while Goro squirms and keens, his hair undoubtedly falling to pieces in Akira’s bed.</p><p>“Alright,” Akira says, pulling out his hand. He cleans it on the small hand-towel that he grabbed with the lube, and picks up a condom.</p><p>“Wait,” Akechi says. “I’m up to date on my tests. I’m clean,” he explains. “So if you’re clean as well—“</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>,” Akira says. “I mean, yeah, I am. Are you sure, though?”</p><p>Goro snatches the condom out of Akira’s hand, tossing it aside. He grabs Akira’s wrist, dragging him closer. “I want to feel you,” he whispers. “Fuck me with your bare cock, Akira. <em> Please.</em>”</p><p>Akira moans, pouncing onto his lover, pulling him close. “You’re so sexy,” Akira says, wrapping an arm around the other man’s waist. “You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me. With your — with your soft hair and your sweaters and your stupid <em> gloves</em>,” Akira sighs, grabbing Goro’s hand in his own, rubbing circles into the palm.</p><p>“You’re one to talk, you and your braiding. I’ve been going <em>nuts</em>,” Goro hisses, “watching you card your fingers through <em>everyone else’s</em> <em>hair.”</em></p><p>“I knew it,” Akira chuckles, grinding their hips together. “I didn’t think so at first, but — God, you jealous little <em> shit. </em>Don’t worry, hon, I’ll braid your hair as often as you want,” Akira coos, tracing his ruined handiwork with delicate fingers.</p><p>“I’m sure you will, you sap,” Goro bites, smirking. Akira smirks back, reaching to grab the lube. He pulls away to drip some onto his palm, rubbing it into his cock, mouth dropping open at the contact.</p><p>“Here,” Goro says, reaching out his left hand. “Let me?”</p><p>Akira nods, and Goro wraps delicate fingers around his cock. Akira moves in closer, breathing hard. When Goro traces his foreskin, he whimpers.</p><p>“<em>Now </em> who’s a tease?” Akira laughs, face flushed. He looks wild like this — hair pointing in a million different directions, face flushed with pleasure, lips kiss-bitten and red. </p><p>“You deserve it, you <em> menace.</em>” Goro slips Akira’s foreskin down over the head of his cock and then back up again, rubbing his thumb firmly against the sensitive underside. Akira gasps, running a hand down Goro’s chest. </p><p>“Goro,” Akira sighs, pulling Goro’s hand away. He reaches up to slip his hand behind Goro’s head, cradling it tenderly. “You’re so precious to me.”</p><p>Goro’s heart leaps into his throat, sticking there. He can’t speak past it, all he can do is wrap his arms and legs around Akira, holding him tight.</p><p>“Are you ready?” Akira asks, brushing his cock against Goro’s entrance. Goro nods, spreading his legs. “Good. Just relax,” Akira whispers, pressing a kiss to Goro’s cheek, hand still firm against the back of the other man’s head.</p><p>Finally, <em> finally </em> he starts sinking into Goro, one torturous millimeter at a time. Goro sighs, running his hands down Akira’s back. Once he’s fully seated, he pauses — and then drags himself back out, just as slowly as he entered. </p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” Goro whines. “I need more.”</p><p>“You’ll get it soon,” Akira chuckles, continuing his leisurely pace. His free hand slips behind Goro’s back, and now he’s really being held. Akira is on top of him, inside of him, surrounding him. “Just be patient.”</p><p>“You’re killing me.” Goro grips tight fingers into Akira’s shoulders. Akira laughs, but it sounds more like a moan — he’s falling apart, Goro can feel it. <em> I bet I could make him lose it,</em> Goro thinks, feeling bold. </p><p>He grinds his hips upward to meet Akira’s slow thrust, leaning in to huff a breathy little moan into his ear. “Akira,” he sighs, putting on a show. “You feel so <em> good.</em>” Akira shudders.</p><p>“I know what you’re doing,” Akira grunts. “You want me to fuck you. Is that it?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Goro moans, hamming it up even further now that Akira knows it’s all a performance. “Oh Akira, you feel <em> so </em> big.”</p><p>Akira growls, wrapping his fingers around the back of Goro’s ruined hair. “Stop trying to rile me up,” he laughs, panting.</p><p>“Hm, that depends,” Goro teases, lips perilously close to his lover’s ear. “Is it working?”</p><p>Akira shudders again, tilting his head to kiss Goro with a slow, hot tongue. </p><p>Without warning, the fingers in Goro’s hair tighten, pulling hard just as Akira snaps his hips forward. A loud, embarrassing moan punches it’s way out of Goro’s throat.</p><p>“Alright,” Akira huffs, smirking. He rolls his hips again, fingers still tight around Goro’s hair. “You asked for it,” he laughs, hips speeding up. Goro whines, grinding his hips to the rhythm of Akira’s thrusts.</p><p>“Yes, Akira, <em> fuck </em> me,” Goro moans, wrapping himself even tighter around Akira, craving — illogically, unbearably— to <em> melt </em> into the other man. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”</p><p>“I’ve... I’ve wanted you for years,” Akira chokes, continuing his merciless pace. “I thought it was — ah, <em> fuck — </em> so obvious. You... you...” Akira whimpers, “you’re going to be the <em> death </em> of me, Akechi Goro.”</p><p>“I didn’t know,” Goro says, tears pricking at his eyes. It’s all too much — the elation, the surprise, the lust. It’s more passionate than anything Goro would’ve dared hope for. “Oh, god.”</p><p>Akira grunts and pulls Goro’s hair again, even harder this time, sending an unbelievable wave of pleasure down Goro’s spine. “Your hair is beautiful,” Akira says, scratching his nails along the scalp. “I loved braiding it, but I think — I think I love ruining it even more.”</p><p>“I can’t — I’m gonna...” Goro whimpers. “Fuck, Akira, you’re gonna make me <em> come </em>.”</p><p>“Do it,” Akira whispers, fucking him even harder, pulling him even closer, wrapping his fingers in Goro’s hair. “Come for me, Goro, please.” He gives Goro’s hair one final tug, sending Goro spiraling towards orgasm.</p><p>“Fuck, I’m coming,” Goro cries, digging shaky limbs into Akira’s body. “I’m <em> coming.</em>”</p><p>The orgasm rips through his body, sudden and intense, dragging startled, high-pitched moans out of his chest. As the orgasm fades away, he sighs, shaking, unable to think.</p><p>“Shit,” Akira says. “I’m going to — oh, <em> Goro-</em>“</p><p>“Do it,” Goro whispers, pressing a tender kiss to Akira’s shoulder. He feels like he’s floating, even as Akira continues to pound into him, his erratic hips caving to pleasure. “Come, Akira. I’ve got you.”</p><p>Akira moans, hips snapping and stuttering through his orgasm. Goro revels in it, post-orgasmic high still coursing through his veins. Akira’s hips slow, and slow more, until he stops with one final sigh.</p><p>“You’re amazing,” Akira says, pressing a kiss to Goro’s lips. His eyes flick up with a smirk. “Also, your hair is...” Akira laughs. “It’s ruined.”</p><p>“That’s alright, I know someone who can fix it.”</p><p>Akira pulls out, sprawling all over Goro — effectively trapping him. Goro tries to wiggle free, but Akira just holds him down tighter, laughing.</p><p>“We need to clean up so you can <em> sleep</em>,” Goro says, poking Akira in the side. “It’s late. You said you had work at 4AM.”</p><p>“Oh,” Akira says, pulling away to look down at Goro. “I may... have lied. I just wanted to make sure I got left alone with you.”</p><p>Goro grabs Akira’s pillow and smacks him in the side with it. Akira laughs.</p><p>“You’re a <em> cad</em>.”</p><p>“Hey! You were leaning into my hands like a <em> cat. </em>I figured it was worth a shot. Are you complaining?”</p><p>“No,” Goro says, voice soft. “I’m not complaining at all.” He reaches up to stroke Akira’s face. It’s hard to believe that this is real and not some elaborate, cruel dream.</p><p>“Good,” Akira says, smiling. “Neither am I. Not even a little bit. I’m... I’m yours, you know. If you’ll have me.”</p><p>Goro’s heart stops.</p><p>“Of <em> course </em> I’ll have you,” he murmurs. “We really should clean up though.” They’re still warm and blissed out, but Goro knows it won’t be long until that turns into discomfort.</p><p>“You’re right,” Akira sighs. “Can I convince you to let us start with your hair?” Akira jokes, reaching up his hand. Goro smacks it away.</p><p>Akira laughs — a real, solid laugh, chest shaking and eyes curled at the edges. It makes Goro’s heart ache. <em> He’s mine, </em> Goro thinks, admiring the goofy tilt of his mouth. <em> He’s really mine. </em></p><p>Unable to contain his joy, Goro laughs too.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank u for coming to my Shuake Hair Braiding ted talk</p><p>shout out to MistressEast for 1.) the endless support and also 2.) for getting me into this miserable little ship in the first place. also, big shout out to my kind beta who i have been instructed to credit as "big weiner boy... my meat is huge"</p><p>feel free to follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/reciprotext">twitter!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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